Questions

Why should I care if she’s dead? Why would I want her money? She never did anything for me. She never cared about me. She never wanted me. She wouldn’t even tell me who my father was, or where he was from. So why would I want anything that came from her? I have worked hard to leave her behind me. I have worked hard to make a life for myself without her help. I worked hard in school, and I worked hard to set up a successful career for myself. All she ever did for me was carry me in her womb and give birth to me. She never raised me; multiple nannies did that for her. She shipped me off to the best and furthest boarding school she could find the moment I was old enough to go. Yes, it was expensive, but it wasn’t like money was tight. She lived her life as part of high society and wouldn’t even introduce me as her daughter. I wouldn’t be surprised if her social circle even know I existed. We had more money than we could spend, but still, she spent more time working than she did with me. I hardly ever saw my mother; she was too busy working or hanging out with her high society friends to spend any time with me.

So why am I sitting here? Why am I sitting in her house listening to her lawyer tell me what her last will and testament says? Why does the knowledge of her death irritate me when I have spent years not caring? When I had long given up on the thought that she would ever decide to be my mother.

‘It was your mother’s last wish that you would read this letter and then receive the house, and the $20,000 in her accounts.’

Why am I listening to this? I don’t want to hear whatever she has to say in her letter; I don’t want anything from her. Taking the money, taking the house is just a reminder of the horrible mother that she was. Just a reminder of how little she cared for me. Why would I want a house that I barely ever lived in? Why would I want the money that she cared more about making than she cared about spending time with her only daughter?

As my mother’s lawyer left with another statement of condolence, he handed me the letter from my mother. The exact letter I don’t want to read but find myself unable to stop from opening. I guess I can’t stop myself from opening it because it’s the last chance I have for my mother to show that she cared about me.

My dearest Grace,

It has been years since we talked, I know you have so many questions that I could never bring myself answer. As I write this letter knowing that my death is coming soon, I find myself still unable to give you the answers you have sought your whole life. I am too ashamed. The only thing I can do is give you everything I have left, the money left in my accounts after all the medical bills and the house. Within this house lies the answers you have always wanted but that I have never been able to bring myself to tell you. I’m so sorry you wanted nothing to do with me, and that I couldn’t be the mother you wanted. For your whole life, I have tried to give you everything that I never had growing up, but it still wasn’t enough.

With all my love,

Your Mother

What is she talking about ‘within this house lies the answers you have always wanted’? Does that mean that somewhere in this house is the answer to who my father is and where I might find him? Will this house tell me why she claimed to love me but was never a part of my life? I don’t see how a house could have all the answers to my questions. I don’t understand why she couldn’t just tell me, to my face and or in this letter. She wrote this letter to me knowing she was dying, yet this letter doesn’t tell me anything. We had so much money the accounts were never empty growing up, yet there is only $20,000 left. I know medical bills are expensive but they shouldn’t have practically wiped the accounts out when we always had so much. What am I missing that could lead to the accounts being so empty? If the answers to all my questions are in this house, then where should I start looking? I guess I should start in the office. Maybe my mother’s collection of paperwork in there might give me some answers.

What a mess. Does she have any organization to this pile of papers? How am I suppose to find any answers in this mess of papers? Bills, medical documents, receipts. Well at least this drawer is labeled, ‘Grace’s School Stuff’. Files of report cards, tuition statements, man this school was expensive, essays. This drawer is full of everything she ever received from my school. I guess she cared about my education if she kept all this. This drawer is the most organized thing in this room, but it still doesn’t answer anything. All this paperwork and there is no organization to anything, nothing makes sense. Why bother keeping any of this? This here is just a little black book full of names and phone numbers. Who are these people and why does she have it? It’s not like anyone keeps people’s numbers written down anymore; everyone just keeps all their phone numbers in their phone. And why are all the names male? Did she not have any female friends? If these were some of her friends, then maybe I can call them to see if they know anything to answer my questions. If I am going to start calling and asking, then maybe I should start with the first number and work my way down.

Jeremy Bathe

(720) 963-2089

It’s ringing.

“Hello”

“Hi Mr. Bathe, my name is Grace. My mother is Bethany Fuller. I found your name in a little black book in her office. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about her.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know a Bethany Fuller.”

“But your name is in her contact book, maybe we can meet? If I show you a picture of her maybe it can jog your memory of her. She recently died, and I am just trying to find out some information about her.”

“I’m a very busy man, but if you come by my office maybe I can squeeze you in for 5 minutes between meetings. You said your name was Grace Fuller? I will give my assistant your name, you will have to wait until I can fit you in.”

“Thank you if you give me the address I can head there now and wait”

How desperate am I for answers that I’m waiting for a man who doesn’t recognize my mother’s name, just because he’s in a book? What if I’m just wasting my time?

“Ms. Fuller, normally I wouldn’t waste my time to squeeze someone in without an appointment, but you called me on my personal phone number, and not many people have that phone number. How is it that you have my number?”

“It was the first number in a little black book I found in my mother’s office. See, here it is.”

As I showed him the book along with a photo of my mom, his face changes with recognition. How could he recognize a picture of my mom but not her name?

“Ms. Fuller, I knew your mother by a very different name, and I definitely did not know she had a daughter. I knew her by the name of Natalie, and that is all. I don’t know how to tell you this, but your mother was one of my go to escorts. I have called on her for 30 years until she chose to retire six months ago. All the numbers in this book are most likely clients of hers”

“Escort? My mother wasn’t an escort, she worked in business. She traveled a lot and worked late at times, but she wasn’t an escort. Besides we had way too much money growing up for her to have a career as an escort.”

“Well, she took quite a bit of money from me for each of my appointments with her, she wasn’t the average girl you pick up on the side of the road. If she charged any of these clients as she charged me, I could see how she wouldn’t have any money trouble.”

“I don’t understand, how can this be? I mean I went to expensive boarding schools and the account was never empty. How could she possibly make enough money to support our life growing up, by being an escort?”

“I don’t know Ms. Fuller, but escorts for the rich like myself can make a lot of money with each client they see. All those late nights and travels were most likely her seeing other clients. You can contact the other names in this book, but I feel they will tell you the same thing.”

How can this be true? Was this really my mother’s life? Is this how she paid for everything? Was this why she was hardly ever in my life? Was this why she sent me away to boarding school, so that I would never discover the truth? Were all those fancy rich friends of hers that she was always spending time with actually clients? How long has she been doing this? Only 30 years, or longer? Could one of the names in this book be my father? Could my father be a client? Did she never tell me who my father is because she didn’t want me to know she was an escort? Does he know I exist? Did she even know which client was my father? If he is in this book, could I find him? Could he be alive? Would he care about me if I told him the truth?

Maybe my mother did care about me the whole time; maybe she was just ashamed I would find out the truth. In her letter, she said she tried to give me everything she never had growing up. My education, my future, could it all be because she never got that? Did she do all she did so that I wouldn’t have to end up an escort as she did? Today has given me possible answers to questions I have had my whole life, but it has also given me so many more questions. I’m going to talk to everyone in this book. I’m going to see if any of these people have any information on who my mother really was. I’m going to find out if any of these men are my father. Last week my mother was alive, and I wanted nothing to do with her, I hated her. Today is different. I wish she had told me everything from day one, told me who she really was, and what she really did. She was ashamed for me to find out, but I’m not ashamed of her. I’m going to find out everything I can about her, and I’m going to find out everything I can about the sacrifices she made to give me the life I have today.